One Tree Hill: A Journey
by Frank Bigoski
Summary: My take on what would have happened in Tree Hill after Season 6.  Introduces a new Original Character, who tells the story from his eyes. Leyton centric, with my original pairing Saylor  Taylor and my OC , let's all go on A Journey.  Prologue & Chap 1 up.
1. Prologue: A Raven and a Brave

Hey all, its Frank here, introducing my new OTH Leyton fic with its very special (at least to me) prologue, introducing a few characters, and reintroducing an old one. Season 7 never happened, and 8 never will, though for you new character fans, don't worry, Clay and Quinn will be around, However being a big Leyton nut, they'll be my main canon couple focus, oh, and my OC Seth Michael Mares will be the POV/Narrator of the story. I don't own OTH, because if I did the show would've ended when Chad and Hil broke my heart and told me they were moving on.

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One Tree Hill: A Journey, Chapter 1; By: Frank Paul Bigoski, IV

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"_A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us."John Steinbeck _

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I'm standing here at the front doors of the Charlotte Douglas International Airport, over looking a sea of steel, plastic, glass, and flesh, that is the parking lot. A lit Benson & Hedges Menthol 100 hangs from my lip, and my Zippo is gripped tentatively in my right hand. I hold my index and middle finger above the 'lid' of the lighter, and my thumb to the bottom, squeezing. It pops open, and my well taught index slides over the gear which will spark the flint, igniting the device's fuel. Flames burst forth from the metallic mouth of the gold plated contraption, before I flick the device closed, snuffing the flame. That's when the bus pulls up, with old Jared behind the wheel.

Jared's a good man, and he's been driving my personal tour bus for the last three years now, since my first book tour. I hate flying, only having taken the red-line flight home last week to see my Aunt, who's health had been failing her, before she passed away, having interrupted my signing schedule by a week. To which my editor, one Ms. Lindsey Strauss had been none too pleased. Though I'm not sure if that had been her main cause for anger, or that I had been passing through Charlotte, North Carolina at the time it had happened was. It seemed that Lindsey had something against the state of North Carolina in general, though I had personally found the people there to be quite endearing.

The funeral in Texas had been hard for me to take, and so the very night the wake ended, I was back on another red-line, and back to Charlotte, to meet back up with Jared and the crew. My assistant Malcolm had stayed in town to take care of the business end of things, and the bus's mechanic, a beautiful young woman by the name of Shanna had done a full check up on the old clunker while the team had the down time. It was appropriate that we had been in Charlotte when all this had happened actually, seeing as how Shanna was from a town not too far from the city. Tonight we were going to head out to Tree Hill and stay at the Bed and Breakfast there that her Grandparents still owned and operated, and she was going to show us the greatest night club in North Carolina. Or so she claimed.

First thing was first though, now that we were on our way out of town, and away from all the busyness of the city streets, we'd be stopping at a road side diner and getting some grub. I'd just received my first royalty check for the new book I was doing my signing for, and my troops had informed me that they were starving. I was more then willing to pick up the tab.

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We pulled in to the old gravel drive of the "Red Rooster Lodge" sometime around 2:00 PM, and my stomach was grumbling at this point as well. The omelet on the flight over this morning just hadn't been up to par. I might have been a skinny guy for a 6 footer, but I still could put down some grub. Yes that's right, I'm a novelist and I just referred to my day's required sustenance as grub, do you have a problem with that?

I didn't think so.

Anyway, as I was saying, I was hungry. However I still wanted to finish reading my dog eared old copy of _An Unkindness of Ravens,_ one more time, before I finally stepped foot in the town where it took place. If I recall correctly, the Author still lived here, and I hoped I would get the chance to meet him while I was in town, he was something of a hero of mine. Lucas Scott had sold his first manuscript, to the very same publishing company I was currently with, right out of high school, well, a year after his graduation, but still, that was pretty major. In fact, I believe he and Lindsey new each other, I'd have to see if she could set up a meeting later, after all, she did say that if there was anything she could do to make the time on the road easier she'd make it happen. Then of course there was that strange hatred of North Carolina, ah well, better things to think about.

For now though, I'd just settle for reading, and getting a good bite to eat before getting back on the road. So, stepping in to the old saloon style doors of the diner, I took a deep breath of what smelled like heaven on a grill, and aimed myself toward the bar to take a seat. Jared was just ahead of me, gesturing for the bartender to come take our orders for drinks, as he already knew exactly what each of us would be having with our mid day meal. A Blue Moon for me, my favorite common beer, seeing as how most of the beers I liked you couldn't find anywhere other then a microbrewery, and it was too early to have anything harsher. A shot of the strongest clear alcohol they had, with a Coke back, for Shanna, as she was the granddaughter of a Moonshiner, and any time was a good time to start drinking the hard stuff to her. A straight Coke for Malcolm, who didn't touch alcohol before 5:00 PM, malt or otherwise, and for Jared himself, another Coke. Jared had told me on many an occasion, after seeing me go in to a drinking binge after a bad signing, that he could drink me under the table, if he weren't a recovering Alcoholic of 25 years now, and I respected that.

What surprised me however, as Jared ordered the drinks, was the absolute beauty of the 5'5" brunette with the blonde highlights flickering in her hair, taking said order. She was stunning, and I couldn't find the words to express that. Which, if you asked anyone, in particular the three friends of mine who currently worked with me on this tour, was an uncommon occurrence if ever there had been one. I had put in to words the beauty of the Rice Terraces of Banaue, and the magnificence of the Colossus of Rhodes, but this, this angel before me, I couldn't describe. Her eyes looked like little pools of cocoa, warm and inviting. As generic and feminine as that may sound to be coming from the words of a male author who has written stories about pain and war for the better part of the last 5 years. Her long straight hair, which although held up in a tight pony tail, was still hanging to about her mid back was lush, and full of light. Her shoulders, although delicate, were held high, and straight, showing strength of will, which instantly sparked interest in this young author's mind. Her face, was chiseled to reflect the perfection of a Botticelli angel, while the soft set of her smile and the tilt that those same cocoa pools gave with that smile showed the wisdom that the young woman's visage held beyond her years.

Then she was gone, and I was assaulted from three different directions, in an attempt of course to snap me out of my own reverie. One elbow nudged my ribs, to no effect. Another hand lifted my jaw, as if in an attempt to close my wide open mouth before it caught a fly, again to no avail. Finally the slap to the face returned my attention to the here and now, and I realized that the woman I'd been so thoroughly distracted by had left her position in front of me.

"Uh, what just happened?" I asked dumbfounded, as I looked around me toward my three now laughing companions. Shanna gave me another couple playful slaps to the face, as I shook the cobwebs loose in my head, and looked toward the far side of the bar, where my beer was being opened by a slap against the lid on the edge of the bar.

"You lost all cognitive thought and started to drool," Shanna said with a barely hidden giggle evident in her tone. Before Malcolm then cleared his throat, making the group aware that it was his turn to speak.

"Yeah, pretty smooth move there boss, maybe next time you can actually let a trail of spittle fall on your shirt." My P.A. joked, which caused Jared to this time elbow him in the ribs, with a bit more force then he'd used on me.

"The young lady's name is Taylor, the door's open now Dutch, why don't you put your foot in before it closes," Jared said, gesturing back to the bar as the keep returned toward us. I stepped forward, drawing one hand down my face to make sure that there was no evidence of my former embarrassing actions, not sure if the drooling comment had been jest or not. Drawing my wallet to pull out a couple of bills to make the payment, I reached across the bar to hand them to the attendant, who was now giving me a once over with those same brown oculars.

"Thank you,, and how much will that be miss?" I asked, as I went to hand her the two twenties, to which I received a rather big surprise. The brunette beauty standing across the old weathered marble surface clasped my hand in hers, and bent my fingers gently around the bills, before giving me a wink.

"Nothing for a handsome gentleman like yourself friend, the owner of this 'fine establishment'…" she said, complete with air quotes around the last two words, which caused a lift to the left corner of my mouth. "Is kind of like a second father to me, and when I see fit to, I'm allowed to give a few freebies on behalf of the house."

Her own smile then spread across her face, reaching all the way to those wise beyond years chocolate browns of hers, before she offered out a hand in my direction. "The name's Taylor James stranger, what can I call you?"

Her full name was instantly categorized under drop dead gorgeous, in my internal filing cabinet, before I reached for her hand in response. "Seth Michael Mares, but my friends call me Dutch. I'd like to add you to that list if you'd let me."

I said with my best attempt at a lady killer's smirk, before bowing my head to her knuckles and brushing them once with my lips. Now that was how a gentleman should act when confronted with a beautiful woman, I thought to myself, considering how proud my Father would have been if he'd seen that. A stifled laugh could be heard on either side of me from behind, which I was certain belonged to Malcolm and Shanna, but a hearty pat on the shoulder reinforced my own decision, as Jared gave his approval of my actions. "Thank you for the drinks Ms. James, we'll just be going to sit at a booth across the room there, if you could send someone to take our order when you have the chance ma'am."

I finished, before withdrawing my hand, making sure to look up to see her response to the old fashioned action I'd chosen before walking away. The blush that her cheeks had taken on seemed to confirm that she had liked it, and I smiled again, this time a private internal smile, which I kept locked away deep inside my own mind. "I'll do that Dutch, and please, call me Taylor."

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Soon we were all gathered at the booth sipping on our drinks, when Taylor came strutting toward the table, which gave me a look at a pair of the nicest legs I've ever seen coming from a denim skirt. The cut of the garment was modest, though pencil cut, so it showed the swell of her hips nicely, and drew plenty of attention to the toned bit of leg it showed above the knee, and all of which it revealed below. Her muscular calves showed that she at the least performed some sort of exercise with her legs, which I could appreciate, as a bit of a gym nut myself, and the sporty Converse she wore only confirmed that. They were clean, but obviously worn, and not just from working, as they had running creases about an inch and a half behind the toe, right where the ball of the foot met the arch. "What can I get for ya'll today?"

Jared ordered first, being the 'elder statesman' of the table, as Malcolm liked to refer to him. Then came Shanna, just because Malcolm and I both knew that you never got between that girl and her food. Then Malcolm ordered, getting his usual cheese burger, with four extra slices of cheese, which caused Taylor to raise an eyebrow in his direction, which drew a laugh from the whole table.

"I'll take the country fried steak, and gravy, with biscuits and mashed potatoes, and a side of mustard greens," I finally announced, to which Taylor smiled.

"My favorites there Dutch," she said, before taking all of our menus, and giving me a wink. Her hand drew back slowly, deliberately brushing against my own as she took the menu from my hand, and I smiled in return. "You guys just holler if you need anything."

As Taylor walked away, I heard a low wolf whistle from my left, which was ended with a yelp, as I assume Shanna gave Malcolm a good kick in the shin. "OW! What was that for? You were teasing him too about five minutes ago!"

"That was before I realized that things seem to be mutual dummy, now mind your manners!" Shanna chastised the youngest of us, though he was 24, more then a grown man in his own right, Malcolm was quite the joker regardless. Sometimes it was as if he had never gone through puberty.

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Shortly after, we had finished our meals, and were all sipping on a second drink before preparing to head back out on the road, I myself intent on taking Taylor's phone number with me. That was when _it _happened.

A loud raucous could be heard outside the doors of the diner, when suddenly appearing through them came five very rowdy young men, ranging from maybe a few years younger then Malcolm, to around my own age of 27. The one leading the group, a farmer's tanned 6 footer, with a skull and dagger tattooed on his left bicep, and a sadistic look to his smile stopped about half way in to the main room of the diner. Before looking down the bar from one end to the other. "I think ya'll are in our seats!"

The man said, before stretching his neck from one side to the other, making a sickening popping noise, which caused the various patrons of the bar to snap to attention. Everyone stood up quickly from their seats and began to move away, toward the far ends of the bar, which brought a riotous chorus of laughter to the four others in the group. The leader began walking again at this point, taking the seat directly across from the register, which he pulled out from the bar, and spun round, so that the back was between his blue denim draped legs. He rose his elbows up over the table, stretching the sleeves of his shirt back to reveal a much more impressive look at his biceps, which had been somewhat hampered by the thin material of his white tee shirt only moments before. "What the hell are you ass holes doing back here?"

Came the voice of Taylor, as she stepped out from behind the wall in the rear of the bar, which I assumed was where the office was located. I was already moving, as were Malcolm and Shanna, until Jared took a hold of both of their arms from his seat. They were both good friends, and more then good to have standing beside you in a brawl, but neither of them had faced down a group of monsters the size of these guys, at least to mine and Jared's knowledge, so he wanted to keep them out of it. Besides, he saw that look in my eyes when Taylor had come out with the anger rolling of her like thunder, he already knew that if anyone was going to deal with this situation, it was going to be me.

I stood a good ten feet back, watching as the leader stared down Taylor with venom in his eyes. Cracking my knuckles silently as I clenched my fists, I prepared to do my worst, which for these gentleman, was definitely that, the worst case scenario. Taylor had by this time came around the bar, and was standing staring at the brown haired leader, with daggers in her eyes, still waiting for her answer. "Well?"

"I came to take you home Tay, don't you get off in about an hour? Well, off work, you wont _get off_ 'til I let you," the leader said with a grin. Gesturing toward his left with a side nod of his head, the two men to that side of him stood up, so that Taylor was now surrounded by them, because the other two had stood when she'd circled round the bar. She was stuck in a corner now, and I didn't like to see anyone in a position that they didn't want to be placed in, beautiful girl or not.

"I told you three weeks ago Paul, we're done," Taylor said, before the man-beast himself stood up. He was smirking as he did so, staring seven inches down on the small woman, who for the life of her, was standing her ground, and staring right back up in to his eyes. "Get out!"

She said, before one of the two behind her grabbed her by the arm, and went to pull her away from the man named Paul. I went to move myself, but before I could reach her she'd kicked back with her left foot, just above the slightly chubby bald man's knee. Following the kick by scraping her foot downward and stomping on his booted toe, Taylor looked over her shoulder to see the goateed man fall to his knees with a howl of pain, smiling. Obviously happy with her work, she looked back toward the leader with a smirk and repeated her earlier single word question. "Well?"

"Damn it Gordo, get up," the shorter, but much more muscular Paul said, before turning toward the other two men standing behind him. "Grab the bitch and let's get out of here, she's done for the day, I guess she doesn't get that I decide when she leaves."

Paul said, to which the three remaining, a Hispanic looking gentleman with long black hair, in a thick braid, of about five feet and nine inches, and plenty of tattoos along his muscular but slim arms, and two blonde burly Caucasians that looked like linebackers, and happened to be twins, began immediately to respond. The Latino went to grab a hold of the opposite arm that Gordo had gone for earlier, only to catch a slap to his face. I was still routed to my spot, waiting to move until absolutely necessary, until I saw Paul's hand flying for Taylor's left cheek while she was looking away from him. "Taylor duck!"

I called, as my legs gave me flight in the same instant, the next moment I was standing directly beside the fallen Gordo, and my arm shot out to grip Taylor around the waist. "Bad move cowboy!"

The Hispanic man said, as he grabbed a hold of one of the bar stools and swung it toward my back. Paul's swing had went wide at least, so I only had the one attack to worry about. However I was in enclosed quarters, and this was a very bad situation.

"Get down boss!" I heard Shanna calling from our booth, which confirmed for me that Jared still hadn't let the other's move. A good choice. I fell back ward to the floor of the diner, holding Taylor tight as I went, and avoiding the large Oaken stool, and its Iron spring and leather reinforced back, which however collided with one of the twin bears, sending the man sprawling. The skinny Latino was fast, I'd have to remember that, I thought, as I relinquished my hold on Taylor, who quickly rolled away.

"I swear I'll shoot all five of you bastards if you mess up this diner!" Taylor announced, to which I let go of a chuckle, as I too rolled away, avoiding the incoming feet of all three still standing thugs. I was back to my feet at a moment's notice, having rolled behind the still upright twin, and raised up in to a fighting stance. I figured that being the biggest, he could probably hit the hardest, but also the slowest, so dropping him first would be a priority. I could have taken the easy way out, but first of all I wasn't a coward like these jack asses, and second, my body was a registered deadly weapon in 49 of the States of the Union, and three foreign countries, I had to at least warn the guy.

"You don't want to do this Hos…" I said, only to have an elbow come flying backward to my face once the big guy realized I was behind him.

"That's right Jacky, kick his ass!" Paul screamed, as he went lunging toward Taylor. Luckily she was faster, and sprinted away toward the back of the bar first, and back through the doors she'd just come out of a few moments earlier. After avoiding the elbow by ducking low, I came back up, throwing a full bodied upper cut in to the bigger man's kidney, he howled, and dropped to his knees like the chubby one had done earlier. I almost felt bad for the country boy, he would be pissing blood for a week after that punch. Just to make sure he didn't get back up, I let a knee collide with his forehead, before stepping past him. The Latino with the braid came next, and unfortunately he made all the movie stereo types come true, his lead hand was holding a knife which he aimed directly for my neck with his first thrust.

Grabbing his stabbing hand by the thumb, after stepping swiftly to the left of the attempted lunge of course, I wrenched the bone of said extension back. The snap at the base of the thumb told me all I needed to know, it was fractured, and the switch blade's clang against the floor a moment later ended my worries of this guy being a threat. However, just as with Jacky, I struck a second time to make sure. Having pulled his attacking arm all the way behind his back, and pinned it there, I struck with my free elbow, just behind his right ear. An instant knockout blow, which, if I had wanted it to be, could also have been instantly fatal, do to the pressure points in that region of the skull.

Twin number 1 was back to his feet now, and apparently running at me from behind, as I heard loud thunderous foot steps, almost like a rushing bull, behind me. "Get down kid!"

Came the warning from Jared, even as I was dropping to my knees on the ground. As the lumbering giant tripped over me, and I saw him falling almost atop me while I looked up, I lifted myself. The sudden displacement of my center of gravity, altered his flight path, sending him flying a good five more feet in to the other previously injured big guy, Gordo. Gordo managed to absorb most of the blow with out falling again though, and just leaned back against the bar holding his chest in his hand. I took that in to consideration as I looked around the bar to see Paul, the leader, hammering on the office door. I would have to make the leader quick, cause the heavy set one might still come back for more.

Jumping up on to the bar, I kicked one of the empty beer bottles sitting there in to the door, directly to the left of Paul's head. The dark haired muscle bound idiot spun toward me with a raised eyebrow, looking as though he was surprised someone had the audacity to do such a thing. "You got a death wish mother fucker?"

"No but you do, if you think you're going to touch Taylor…" I let out in one very quiet, low breath. My heart was racing, and I had more then enough adrenaline running through me at this moment to kick this guy's ass, at least, that's what my training, and my body were currently telling me. The endorphins running through my system in conjunction with that adrenaline might have been eschewing my judgment a bit, but hell, what's life with out taking a few chances?

Paul looked around the bar as if searching for his posse, which made me smirk. Apparently he wasn't as tough as he thought he was. "Bunch of pansy ass bitches!"

He yelled, as his left fist swung swiftly out toward my jaw. Or not, I thought, considering my previous decision regarding his toughness, as I barely avoided the swing with a lean to my left. My own response was to reach for the left arm that was still extended with my right, in an attempt to get a pull on his wrist, and set him up for a Kenpo punch, a full weight straight arm blow aimed for his mid section if possible. That didn't work out as planned however, as the arm of the hick had already withdrawn from my range. "Great!"

I voiced my inner disappointment, as the faster then expected second swing came for my face again, this time a right. I tried to lean away again, but Paul had shifted his weight, modifying the angle of the swing, to collide directly with my jaw. Thinks went hazy for a half second as my brain shook inside my skull, but I snapped back to in time to see the third swing coming. Fortunately for me, Paul had a boxer's mentality it seemed, rain blows on the head as long as its open. The right jab had caught me, and now he was swinging a hook with all his power toward my right temple with his left. Problem with a hook is that it's a power blow, meant for a dazed or stunned target, my vision had blurred for a moment from the jab, but I wasn't going to be dazed from something like that. "I've been hit harder."

I said, as I ducked under the hook, throwing one of my own toward his left kidney even as I attempted to dodge. This time I hit pay dirt, as he wasn't able to adjust the full force swing as easily as the jab, and the blow I threw collided with its target. As I stood, I threw my head up hard, hoping to catch his jaw on the way up, and I was glad to hear the crunch that signified my success.

"You fucker!" Paul bit out his hand having raised to his now cracked jaw, his words somewhat slurred. He swung again, this time however, I was completely aware, and ready, my forearm throwing the jab wide, and my wrist rolling over his own, so that my hand could grip tightly to his elbow. Pulling him in, I threw a knee in to his stomach first, forcing the air out of his lungs. As I stepped back when I planted the knee, I pulled with the arm I had around him on the same side, throwing his weight off further. That's when the straight armed compact range Kenpo Punch collided with his sternum, and my left arm released his right, throwing him literally ten feet in to the floor in front of the bar's office door.

Ka-click, was the next sound I heard, coming from my left, as I turned to look down the barrel of an old Smith & Wesson revolver.

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A/N: Hey everyone, hope you like the prologue, I know, weird that only Taylor James would show up in a Leyton centric fic's intro right? Nah. Not at all. Because I had to introduce my story teller/shameless self insert character somehow right? I promise, next chapter, there will be PLENTY of Leyton, as well as some Seth/Taylor, which I like to call Saylor. Heh, hope you guys love reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. ~Frank

P.S. Who's got Seth at gun point, and is he gonna get shot? What the hell is taking Taylor in the office? Read Chapter 1: A Raven Comes Home, to find out…


	2. Chapter 1: A Raven Comes Home

**Hello all. Hope you all enjoy this second installment in my A Journey story, and I hope you all enjoy my original characters Seth Michael Mares, and Merrick Oliver James as much as I enjoyed creating and writing them.**

**Just to dispel any confusion, I don't own One Tree Hill, if I did, Lucas and Peyton would have been the couple married in high school, and well, psycho Derrick would have gotten killed when real Derrick threw his crazy ass out the window, well, amongst other things. Love everyone, and thanks for the reviews, however few there were, for the prologue. Hope this chapter wets your appetites for more Leyton, with the preview here, and for a bit of Saylor, my own original relationship involving Seth my OC, and Taylor, yes people, the evil James sister is back... dun dun dun... Oh, and keep in mind, seasons 7 and 8 never happened, and Luke and Peyt were just going on a drive in season 6's finale.**

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_**One Tree Hill: A Journey, By: Frank Bigoski, Chapter 1: A Raven Comes Home**_

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_"Love sought is good, but given unsought is better."_

_William Shakespeare_

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My name is Seth Michael Mares, and here I was staring down the barrel of a cold black Smith & Wesson. The girl who's rescue I had rushed to, to begin this entire situation, was nowhere to be seen. My back was against a wall, covered in shelves, which in turn were covered in glass bottles of various spirits. My only place to run was to the left, toward the bar's break, but then I would just be in the bar proper itself. I would still be thirty feet from a door, and regardless of how fast I was, a bullet would still move thirty feet faster. That's when the office door of the bar flew open once more, the metal plate bolted to the bottom quarter striking the fallen Paul in his head. A groan from the still fallen man alerted me to this, and I turned to see yet another firearm.

This one however was not aimed at me, it was pointed at the heavyset gentleman bearing down on me with the 45 caliber revolver. The room was so quiet at this point that you could have heard a pin drop in the parking lot, but the angry fervor in the over weight man's eyes did all the speaking I needed. Gordo was holding the gun steady even though his lips were quivering with a mix of anger, and probably fear regarding the 12 Gauge pump action leveled off toward his own face. So in response, the damsel in distress who had become my would be savior taunted the man. "Come on Gordo, we both know you're too much of a pussy to squeeze the trigger. You only carry that thing because Paul is an even bigger coward, and things the gun makes him look scarier because he's not carrying it, but he still pushes you around."

Taylor said rather nonchalantly as she pulled the pump back on the wood grain and black iron hunting weapon. Oh yeah everybody, let's irritate the man with the pistol aimed at my forehead. That'll do the trick.

Gordo's left eye twitched almost maniacally as he moved his finger behind the trigger guard, which the resounding click earlier had assured me was ready and waiting to fire. "You're a stupider slut than Paul always says you are if you think I wont squeeze this trigger before you do Taylor. In fact why don't you…"

The large man's orders were cut short as a large hand stuck him hard in the ribs. His aim faltered, and just then I ducked to the ground behind the bar, looking over to Taylor who winked in my direction as she followed my lead. After the sounds of struggle ended a few moments later, with a metal scratching sound resounding across the entire length of the bar, I ventured to take a peak. Kneeling with his knee driven in to Gordo's neck from behind, and his hands pinning the man's arm down, was my bus driver/confidant of some 3 years or so now, Jared. The later middle aged African American man held my would be shooter down as he looked up toward me. "You good kiddo?"

I nodded as I stood up from behind the bar again, and walked round toward the front, helping Taylor to her feet along the way. Standing by the door of the bar, was Shanna, now holding the Smith & Wesson, which I assumed had been the cause of the metallic screech moments earlier. Only two feet to the fallen Gordo and Jared's right stood my P.A. Malcolm, the half Japanese half Somali descent twenty something shaking like a leaf as he looked down at the situation. "Man, I'm glad he dropped the gun, or when I tried to kick it away he may have shot me!"

Everyone present gave a laugh in response to that, except for one lone occupant of the door that Shanna was still standing next to. Holding a cowboy hat to his chest and scratching his balding head stood a robust man of average height, with a pair of shocked, awed eyes shooting from face to face in the bar.

"What in the hell is going on here Taylor James?" The round bellied elder man said, causing a nervous laugh to erupt from the gorgeous bar tender/server, as well as myself.

* * *

Some two hours later, after things had all calmed down at the bar, and the robust elderly man had let go of a few hearty laughs over the tail end to the story of Paul and his boy's attempted abduction of Taylor, it was time to go. First of course proper introductions were made between myself, and my friends, and the business's proprietor. Apparently the elderly man had been the high school basketball coach at Taylor's school back in Tree Hill. Which was a funny fact indeed seeing as how I now knew exactly who Taylor was, seeing as how she had shown up as a bit character in Ravens. I was almost embarrassed to know that I had actually had a crush on this girl for years based off of reading that book, always liking the bad girls, and when I finally met her in person, it had become a reality. Whitey, the former Tree Hill Ravens coach, was now apparently the owner of this establishment, and had just come back in fact from watching the Ravens Summer training exercises. He had even done me the honor of putting me in touch with Lucas Scott, who had agreed to meet with me to discuss his writing process with me. I was psyched out of my mind, and had instantly been prepared to skip town and head out to Tree Hill, eager to have that meeting, until I saw Taylor's face all of a sudden turn sullen.

It seemed she still had issues with her childhood home town, as the look of sadness that passed over her when I told her that we were indeed heading that way, could not have been all because she wanted to get to know me better. So, me being the sucker for a damsel in distress that I am, and really wanting to get to know Taylor better, I bit the bullet…

* * *

However we have another part of our story to tell, and I pass it down to you in explicit detail based on what I would later learn from the young man who experienced it. Merrick Oliver James, Taylor, and her two sisters Haley and Quinn's younger cousin. As well as one of the finest young men I would ever have the pleasure of calling my friend. Alas, that is yet again, jumping ahead of ourselves in the grand scheme of things, so let me tell you how M.O.'s story begins.

There he was, leaned back against the wall of the Battle Mountain Airport, his eyes closed as he hummed along to Mia Catalano's newest single. A smile across his face as he listened to the thrumming of the guitar, he would have to thank Hales for sending him this early copy of Mia's next CD. The song was a good one, better then anything on Mia's first couple of albums even, which was a tall order to fill, or so Merrick thought. He had gotten the chance to meet Mia once about a year before too, during one of her Tours, his cousin Haley and her husband Nathan had flown him out to Tree Hill, North Carolina that summer to visit, and he'd got to see her play live at Tric at her homecoming show. It had been awesome, and he and Mia had hit it off as friends pretty fast. He wanted to go in to music himself and she had kind of taken him under her wing as a sort of intern/little brother for the couple of weeks he was there.

Basically he'd been a glorified gopher for Mia. But hell, he'd had a good time with it, so, what was wrong with that?

The note that had come with the new CD had put him in convulsions of laughter, as he could imagine the dye splattered faces of his cousin and the musical artist as they wrote it. Apparently his favorite little second cousin, Jamie, had attacked his mother and Mia with food coloring filled water balloons. Which they had both decided to comment upon in their cooperatively written note to "that kid from Nevada that you flew out here to visit last Summer," or so Haley had said Mia kept calling him. It was alright though, he always called her the crazy rock star who likes old guys (her boyfriend, Chase, one of the bartenders at Tric, tended to laugh at that one too).

That's when the airport's security had approached him, a pair of guards, each wearing forlorn looks as they stepped in the young man's direction. Merrick pulled an ear bud out of his right ear in response to the wave from the nearer of the two guards, a young man, not much older then himself, with tanned skin and average stature. The black haired security officer's face was drawn in to a saddened expression as he gestured to Merrick, offering a hand out to the young man in greeting.

"My name is Derrick Maldonado sir, I'm the supervisor on shift for the airport's security at the moment, I'm sorry to be of inconvenience but could you come this way?" The young guard asked, having just confirmed his identity as the building's lead security agent. He was lean, with a somewhat muscular tone to his physique, slicked back jet black hair, and a smoothly shaven face that made him look much younger then his approximate 25 years of life. The sadness in his dark brown eyes however was what drew young Merrick's attention, as the young music and business major raised an eyebrow in response to the greeting.

"Merrick James," M.O. responded, skipping the lengthy full introduction of adding in his two middle names as he would have normally done. After all, this was a security guard who was asking for his cooperation, so business first, pleasantries later. Merrick followed the two security officers toward a side room of the Airport at that time, where another young person, this one a female, dressed in a complimentary business suit awaited them.

"Hello Mr. James, my name is Alexandria Reyes," the attractive young woman said, offering her hand across the desk towards Merrick as he stepped in to what he assumed was her office. Pretty nice digs for a girl who seemed to be barely two or three years his senior.

At the fresh age of 19 Merrick was still a young man, barely getting started on his own personal voyage through the world. What he was not aware of was that the woman sitting across the oaken desk from him in the small office was about to bring that very world he had just stepped in to shortly before crashing down around him. "I'm sorry to interrupt your travels Mr. James but I am afraid I have some troubling news for you."

The woman continued, as she looked over an open file which sat across her desk in front of him. Merrick, otherwise known as M.O. to his friends, both do to his initials, and his knack for having the devil's luck as a jester back at school, tried to peak toward the file, only to have his attention drawn back up to the attractive Latin woman's eyes by the clearing of her throat. "What seems to be the matter Ms. Reyes?"

Merrick asked, a question which he in retrospect wishes he would have kept to himself for just a few moments longer. Maybe if he hadn't asked as readily as he had, then the painful answers awaiting him from the U.S. Air Marshall would have been different. Maybe the government would have just been seeking his opinion for a random safety and awareness poll for flight passengers. However in this world of absolutes we seem to live in day to day, maybes are just as unimportant as our breakfast five months ago. They don't effect our today anymore then they do our yesterday.

"I'm sorry Mr. James, but your parents were in an accident in the canyon outside of town, thus far the hospital has been unable to rouse either of your parents, they were both apparently knocked unconscious in the accident. There is a police cruiser on its way to pick you up and take you to see your parents, is there anything that we can do to help? " The Marshall explained, as her head hung down in sadness. It was hard having to be the one to give a person that kind of news. Delivering to them a confirmation of their worst possible expectations. Merrick had become frozen solid where he sat, his eyes having gone wide upon news of his parent's accident.

After a few minutes of letting his body catch up to his mind, and the agent repeating if there was anything they could do to help, Merrick finally returned to his senses. "Um, no, I think I should just get to the hospital. I appreciate the offer though."

The young man responded, before turning on his heels and exiting the woman's office, soon he had made his way back outside to the pickup and drop off area near the airport's main doors. Scanning the horizon as quickly as he could until his eyes fell upon an approaching police car, all Merrick could think about at that moment was getting back to his parents. Internally he was almost angry with himself for having gone to school so far away from home, having wanted to attend Duke ever since his childhood visits to see Haley and the other girls, as well as their folks, back in NC. If he had gone to a closer school he could have driven himself home, or road a bus, and so his mom and dad wouldn't have had to drive through the canyon roads to pick him up, taking the three mile long trek in to town from their Ranch property on the mountain. They would have been safe at home waiting for him to pull up their private drive, and sitting on the porch in their favorite hammock swing, cuddled together side by side.

* * *

Instead, as he learned when he reached the hospital, they were laying side by side in two beds in the Critical Care Unit, fighting for their lives. It didn't look good for either of his parents. Especially his mother apparently, who had taken a terrible blow to the head, which had, according to the X-Rays caused heavy hemorrhaging in the brain, and may have been the cause of a stroke. His father wasn't much better off as his chest had been collapsed by the airbag in their Volvo as it had fired off. Apparently the initial shock from the collision with the drunk driver who had caused the accident's truck had left his father pinned to the steering wheel before the driver side airbag had released. When it had it had broken four of his ribs, and collapsed his chest, leaving his lungs fighting to provide necessary oxygen to his brain. That had thus lead to his father falling unconscious and rolling the car over a nearby ledge in the canyon, explaining his mother's head injury with ease.

All he could do now was pray, and that was exactly what he was doing. He had called Haley back in NC and told her of the events, and his cousin, as well as her brother in law and best friend Lucas, who had been there at the time, had told him that they would be praying for his parents, and to keep them updated. He had agreed and shortly there after gone outside to catch a breath of fresh air and try to clear his head. All he could think about in that room with his two injured and machinery laden parents was that it was his fault they were laying there. He knew that wasn't true, but as long as he sat there staring at their prone forms he wouldn't be able to shake that feeling of blame. So he had taken a walk around the east wing of the hospital, gathering a few breaths of the cold Fall mountain air.

* * *

The events of the accident were now two weeks ago, as Merrick straightened out his black suit jacket, and walked out to his parents, no, his living room. The house had been left to M.O. in his parent's will, but for now he still had to return to school, and so he was actually meeting with a couple of his old friends about renting the place out to them later. Right now though he had to get this damned black tie on right, he wasn't going to look a mess at his parents funeral, not on the outside. Not when his insides were already torn and thrown asunder in the confusing prior to weeks.

All of the girls were here, even Taylor, which was nice seeing as how she was always the cousin who avoided family affairs, it was good to see that she was here to pay her respects. His parents had loved all three of his Uncle's girls like they were their own, and it showed, as even the aforementioned loner Taylor had arrived teary eyed on her plane two days ago. The three girls had been quick to help Merrick organize things for today's services, as up until then he had barely managed to get things scheduled. It was good to have his older cousins there to give support and back him up like they were, because without them he wouldn't have stood a chance.

With them here, and Haley's best friend Lucas, her husband Nathan, and son Jamie, and sister in law Peyton and niece Sawyer, he felt like he could do it. He felt as though he could make it through this ordeal, and still know which way was up, which was a surprise in and of itself. He loved everyone of them as he would his own family, for he had grown up with the many souls in the room with him at that moment prepared to head to his parent's services. Every summer in Tree Hill North Carolina had been a summer studying with Haley, and secretly writing songs after they were supposed to be in bed. Or a summer following Lucas around as he stalked Peyton Sawyer around the most secluded spots of the little city's beaches. Or a summer playing basketball with Nathan and Lucas, once the former had been proven to be a better man then they had all expected growing up, do in no small part to Haley.

With this group of people here, M.O.'s family indeed, he could make it through the day.

Today, the one time he really needed the love of all those people who he held important to himself in life, and he had it, one and all. Except for two who couldn't be there with them at the moment. The two who had been lost to all of them about a half month ago. The two who Merrick wished more then anything were there with him, holding his hands and guiding him forward in to this next chapter of life. The two he loved most.

* * *

That had been a couple of months ago, and summer was nearing its close. Haley and Nathan had been kind enough to take the younger man in to their home, where he had stayed the remaining weeks of his vacation, and would return for the next summer after school at Duke was out for the season.

Currently he was working as Mia's assistant until it was time to return to school. At which point the would take a temporary leave from the new found position. However both Mia, and her talented producer Peyton, Haley's good friend Lucas's wife, had told him that the position would be waiting for him when he returned. They had all been so welcoming, and helpful during his grieving period when he'd come to their little city of Tree Hill, that he was almost overwhelmed. Everyday he woke up to a group of the most amazing friends anyone could ask for. People who genuinely cared for his well being, and he was so grateful that he couldn't express in words his feelings.

Or at least that's what one Lucas Scott had seen in the young man over the past few months. Having been one of those people to have welcomed Merrick with open arms in to his family and their lives, in an attempt to help him through the pain of losing his parents. Lucas himself had lost the closest thing he ever had to a father just over a half decade ago, when his biological father took the life of his Uncle Keith. That had been the hardest day of Lucas's life, and it had only been the one parent. Lucas had been nearly paralyzed by that pain, and couldn't help but cringe at the thought of what would have happened to him if he had lost his mother as well.

So it was that he had come to this point, sitting at the bar at Tric, laughing as he watched the to and fro scrambling of Merrick trying to get everything ready for Mia's performance tonight. The young woman's show tonight would be the premier of her new album's worth of songs to the public. As well as a charity performance for Red Bedroom Record's continuing support of Breast Cancer Patients and Survivors. Lucas was proud to be a part of the effort, having written the press releases for the charity, and done much of the leg work in putting together the bands for the show and CD while Peyton, Haley, and Mia banged things out in the studio.

Then he had gotten the call he received a couple of hours ago from his former coach on the Ravens, Whitey Durham. Whitey had informed him that an author for the same publisher he himself worked for was on his way in to Tree Hill tonight, and was a huge fan of his. So Lucas had of course told Whitey to send him by the club so that the two could meet and discuss one another's works. The fact was that Lucas was a huge fan of the War Drama and Crime Noir focused stories that Seth Michael Mares had penned for their mutual publisher himself, and had been looking forward to a chance to meet the other young author.

Tonight was as good a time as any right?

At the moment however, he had just been completely and thoroughly distracted from all thoughts of his evening meeting with the other writer, because his beautiful wife of two years had just walked in to the Club proper from the studio rooms. Standing there in Ellie's old leather jacket, and a pair of tight acid washed blue denim jeans, with a white button up that Lucas was sure had gone missing out of his closet two weeks prior, Peyton looked absolutely amazing.

"Hey there Mrs. Scott," Lucas said with a sly grin as he sauntered across the bar room floor to wrap his arms around his wife pulling her in to a tight hug.

"That never gets old, Mr. Scott," Peyton returned, as she kissed her husband gently on the lips as he encircled her in his arms. All of the stresses in organizing tonight's show, and the recording of not only her second Breast Cancer memorial album, but Mia's second record as well, evaporating as she felt the protective embrace of her husband. This was where Peyton Scott had always felt safest, and the most free, right here, wrapped tightly in the arms of the man she loved most in the entire world. Her husband, her best friend, and her dearest confidant, Lucas Scott.

"So, how are things going?" Lucas asked, as he took a step back to look at his wife once more with that sparkle of appreciation in his eyes. He couldn't help but smile as he noticed the equally lingering stare of his wife as she looked him over from head to toe, taking in every inch of the Clothes for Bros suit he was sporting for the night's event.

Clothes for Bros was a new subsidiary of Peyton's best girlfriend's clothing line, and Luke's suit was a one of a kind black two toned suit, pinstriped in a ghost threading to give it an extra touch of couture style. His shirt was a classic white, with a touch of B. Davis style, a black collar lapel, and black cuffs, with a white threaded "B. Davis," sewn in to the cuffs, signifying the suit's exclusive signature line status. "It's all going good, thanks in no small part to my boy and the dirty work he did helping to set up. Or his best friend's cousin, who I am so thankful he convinced me to hire."

"I'm pretty sure M.O.'s more thankful then either of us Peyt, but I'm glad you appreciate him. I'm sure it makes him feel wanted, and that's something I'm glad we can give him," Lucas said with a smile.

"Speaking of dirty work, I have to get over to Brooke's so she can clean me up for tonight. I'm a mess right now," Peyt said exaggeratedly, which brought a chuckle from her husband. "I see that my boy continues amaze the masses with his ability to go from filthy covered in dirt and grease, to sexy beyond all measure once he cleans up. So I have to go and do the same."

"You're always sexy, Mrs. Scot," Lucas was sure to say, as he gave his wife a peck on the cheek. Handing her the keys to her Comet, which he had just taken to get detailed a few hours prior. "The old girl's all ready for you baby, just promise not to run any red lights."Lucas teasing brought a mischievous smile to his wife's face, that spread all the way to her eyes as she leaned in and whispered in to his ear. "Only because you asked."

She responded, before turning to walk out of the club after a short salute to her husband in an almost military manner.

Lucas could hear Chase, Mia's boyfriend, and a sort of staple as the favorite Tric bartender of the last few years, laughing back at the marble top. It seemed he had heard the conversation in its entirety.

"What is it with Tree Hill women, and calling us grown men their 'boy'?" Chase asked, to which Lucas could only shrug, and offer his own laughter in response.

* * *

I Seth Michael Mares had made it to my destination. It was time for the festivities at Tric tonight, which I (yes, we're back to my direct point of view dear friends) had prepared for in my traditional way. Once arriving in Tree Hill and checking in to the amazing quarters we had been reserved at Shanna's grandparent's B&B we had all gone our separate ways to prepare. I was dressed to impress, if I do say so myself, in a light gray Mandarin cut suit, with a black button down with a red Garnet carved cameo pin at my neck. I had received this cameo as a gift from a friend of mine in New Orleans while writing my second novel, a piece about the Ecstasy empires of the United States and Russia, which I had been unfortunate enough as to be involved in during my younger years. My friend was an investigative journalist who had assisted in my own studies of the New Orleans branch of the international cartel, and their connections to Moscow. He had also been a former squad leader of mine during my years in the Army directly after high school, which seemed like forever ago at this point. Our experiences together then had been what my first novel was written for, and it was also the where I had gained my appreciation for the stone carved cameo pins which many of my friends had helped me collect over this past decade. A Platoon commander whom I had served under, along with my journalist friend from New Orleans, had possessed an affinity for the decorative clasps, and turned me on to them as well. This one in particular had double the connection with the old Platoon leader, because it was emblazoned with the twin headed dragon of the Romanov family crest from Russia. The last Czar and his family, whom my own great grandfather had served as a trumpet herald, and had been a fascination of Kerensky, the former platoon commander who's own family had fought as Russian soldiers prior to Stalin's communist regime.

Long story short, the two headed dragon flickering with light pinned to the collar of my black button down gave the whole outfit a complete feeling that set me at ease. Not only did I want to look good in front of my peer Lucas Scott, and the world famous fashion designed B. Davis, who would surely have photographers present from her magazine that may recognize a decorated war hero, and semi-famous author such as myself, but Taylor would be there. I had convinced her to come along for the ride, and she had done so, though she had refused to ride in the comfort of the tour bus, opting instead to take her old fashioned Truck for the long drive. In response to that I had simply refused to ride in the bus myself, deciding to go the rest of the way in the truck with Taylor James, getting to know the tough, troubled woman who had stolen my heart when she leaped to defend me with that 12 gauge pump action earlier today.

I wanted to impress her more then anyone. So I'd shined my shoes, shaved, ironed my clothing, and donned my suit as I usually would. The one additional activity to my usual preparations had been to pray, pray that I wouldn't scare this one off. Or that she wouldn't just be interested in my money, which I had plenty of, even if not for my writing, seeing as how my Step Father was the owner of a nation wide jewelry store chain. Or worse yet, that she didn't just want a one night stand with an rugged ex-soldier, like so many women whom I had met on the road.

I held out hope though, because I had managed to convince her to come home to Tree Hill for the concert tonight. Something I could tell she had been fighting herself inside not to do. That gave me hope, and that hope was all that I needed to reassure me that my prayers would be answered. So here I was waiting outside my room for Taylor to arrive, with my crew in tow, all of whom I must say were dressed for the occasion as well. From old Jordan in a dark blue three piece suit which almost put my own ensemble to shame, to Malcolm and his mobster-esque pinstriped piece, with the fedora and all, to Shanna, and her right thigh split red cocktail number, which was a huge change from the usual coveralls, or jeans and A-Shirt which I was used to seeing her in. I couldn't wait to see my date for the evening, and that's when the old Chevy came billowing in to the parking lot of the B&B.

When the truck stopped, and one long leg appeared from the opened door, glistening under the pale moonlight, shiver traveled up and down my spine at the thought. The toned limb looked gorgeous in its own right, but what followed it from the vehicle could have erased my memory of every other attractive woman I'd ever seen, because tonight, Taylor James was a vision of perfection, in my humble opinion.

She wore a little black dress, which came down to just above the knee, not tiny by any standards, but cut just high enough to show the beautiful toned muscle of her calves, and the supple skin of her upper leg just above the knee. The cut of the back was low, suggestively so, sitting just below the small of the back, showing the toned, supple flesh surrounding the young woman's spine and shoulder blades. The front was fit tight to the flesh, which gave a suggestive view of the size of the bosom beneath the shimmering cloth, and came to a tight collar around the bottom of the neck, accentuating the length and beauty of Taylor's throat in the process. "Stunning."

That was the one word which I could use to sum up the image before me without sounding like a troglodyte of a fool, and so it was the only word I let slip from my tongue. Taylor blushed as she stepped forward to take my arm, pecking me on the cheek and whispering appreciatively in to my ear as she did so. "You don't look so bad yourself there Dutch."

The limo which Lindsey had scheduled for our evening upon my request pulled up at that moment, and the five of us piled in quickly.

* * *

As we entered in to the club some twenty minutes later, the party was already in full swing.

A group of young men played away on stage, rocking out with a mix of metal, and what sounded like hip hop beats as an undertone, which I assumed was under the control of the Filipino gentleman at the turn tables on the right of the stage. The track had my head bobbing almost instantly as Taylor tugged me along toward the V.I.P. section of the club, where we had booked a table, again through Lindsey. As we stepped up on to the raised platform, I turned to look across the stage to see the musicians as their hard rhythm slowed to a stand still. As the young man singing lead stepped forward to bow, and then nodded to stage left, I saw two people there whom I felt like I had known for years.

Lucas Scott and his wife Peyton Scott, hand in hand, stepped forward on to the main stage and moved toward the mic at it's forward most point, the curtain closing behind them.

"Thank you TCK!" Peyton called in to the mic, with a flicker of pride showing in her entrancing green eyes. I'd known even before hearing her speak that she was the girl in all of Lucas's books. That much had been obvious, the curls running rampant across her head, and down to just below her shoulders, and the penetrating emerald of her eyes. That had been enough to tell me that this was the woman that had been the direct cause of two of my favorite novels of the last decade. The proud strut to the mic, and the powerful yet self conscious voice that had played over the speakers of the club had only confirmed my first instincts. "As you all know, my husband Lucas Scott…"The woman, whom I had affectionately come to know as Peyt thanks to her husband's writing, said, with that same self conscious pride. "…helped make all this possible tonight, and he has agreed to read an excerpt from his next novel for all of you to hear."

Peyton gushed, squeezing Lucas's hand one more time before stepping back from the microphone, and gesturing him forward with her right hand.

Lucas stepped forward at that moment and gripped the mic stand, adjusting the microphone up to his own six foot plus height, to better place it for his next line. As he smiled toward the crowd with a mix of shyness, and the same pride which I had seen in his wife, which I could tell was directed toward that same woman, I smiled. This was the man whom I had grown to know through his writing. The author who I so wished to know as a colleague, and desperately as a friend. This man had helped inspire me a few short years ago to write my first novel, because he showed me that real life could be entertaining.

Not only that, but one's real life helped them connect to their reader better than any made up fictional story, not to take away from Salvatore, or Rice, Tolkien or any others, but well written nonfiction was more then just entertaining. True events really gave someone a common point with the characters, because the story wasn't about an elf, or a hobbit, or a vampire, but about a real flesh and blood human being. Someone you could meet in person, and offer forth your hand in greeting to.

That's why I was here. Lucas Scott wasn't just my favorite author of the last decade, but he was my favorite character. He had been through so many trials and tribulations, which while different from my life, had reflected my own in many ways as well. That's why when he began to spoke at this moment, I listened.

"Love is a mysterious thing." Lucas started, pausing for effect after that first line as he scanned the crowd, when his eyes fell upon his wife at his side, the swell in his throat wavered as he gulped, and I could see the love in his eyes. The same love he had expressed in his first two novels. "Love is knowing that sometimes the person who is party to that love will do the wrong thing. Love is knowing that you yourself may make a mistake, and anger or upset that person. Love is knowing that regardless of all that, you are both going to be there for each other in the end. Love is letting go of the past discrepancies…"

Lucas said, as his eyes caught a dark brown haired gentleman, and his auburn female counterpart, who were arm in arm at a table just to the right of our own. I looked in their direction, to see both of them raising questioning eyebrows toward Taylor, who had sidled over to stand beside, and just behind me, seemingly trying to hide from their eyes. Once I noticed this, I instantly knew the pair. Nathan Scott I should have recognized on site, as he was an NBA Star, but the drinks from the afternoon, and the limo ride this evening had impaired that recognition. His wife, who held his hand tightly as she leaned in to his left shoulder, was a petite little thing that I also may have recognized, if I wasn't too busy stuck in my own little world during her half nation tour. The musician, and producer, Haley James, best friend of the man I had traveled here to Tree Hill to meet.

Reaching out to take Taylor's hand, I seemed to catch her off guard, but regardless I pulled the woman in to my right side, wrapping my offered arm around her waist to comfort her. She leaned in to my chest and I knew at that moment that for at the least the remainder of the evening at the club, she would be okay. I would protect her from whatever she may need me to, and her contented sigh beside me, confirmed that she knew that. As all this happened in the space of a moment, I turned my eyes back to the guest speaker, and the man who I was here to meet.

"…and knowing that sometimes love can hurt. I just want everyone here in this room to know that regardless of what might cause the pain in relation to love, that the good can always out weigh the bad. Don't let anger, or misunderstandings tear apart your marriage, or your friendships, or your families, or whatever other type of love you may share with another person. Just remember that whatever may happen, you can always talk it through. The future is not set in stone, so don't let your yesterdays, or your today, decide what your tomorrows will be like. Make sure that those you love know how you feel, and live every day as though you may never get another chance to tell them." Lucas said, taking a long breath after the meaningful portion of his speech. "Don't let anger interfere with saying you love someone, because you never know when you wont have the chance to do it again. I almost let anger at a loved one ruin my life once…"

Lucas said, before turning toward his wife and pulling her tight in to his side, a gesture which made me smile. Though I was not privy to the exact moment he was speaking of, but I could tell that it was something the couple had gone through together. That brought a smile to my own face, as I squeezed Taylor closer to my own side. I didn't know what it was between herself and her sister and brother in law exactly that caused their discontent with each other. All I knew was that their Aunt and Uncle's funeral in Battle Mountain, Nevada some months ago was the last they'd all been together, and that was more for the sake of her cousin Merrick, then anything else, but I was determined to get to know this woman better, and help her make peace with her loved ones as Lucas had seemed so determined to push his Brother and best friend to do, targeting them during his speech. After those words, I wanted to know this man even more. "...and I'll never do that again."

As Lucas finished his speech, and stepped down from the stage with Peyton in tow, I decided something. I didn't just want to learn about his process as a writer, or hear more of the sordid details of his angst filled younger years. I didn't just want his pointers on my basketball game, seeing as how he was the coach of a multiple championship teams. I didn't just want to be an acquaintance. I wanted to be this man's friend.

This man who looked at his wife every time I caught a glimpse of him, with adoration and respect. The man who's eyes fell upon his best friend, and younger brother, with a mix of chiding, and understanding, every time they fell upon them. The man who's words seemed to carry in them the wisdom of a hundred men, twice his years. This was the man who's words on paper had made me a fan, and inspired me to tell my own story. The man who's story had interested me so much that I had detoured my own nation wide book tour to meet him. The man who's spoken word had proven to me what I had always believed after reading his first work, _Ravens_, he was in fact, a good man. "I think its time to introduce myself."

I said, putting my hand upon the small of Taylor's back, as I gestured toward the stairs leading down from the V.I.P. platform, toward the club proper, where Lucas and his wife were now walking around, escorted by the world famous Brooke Davis, as she introduced them to all the "big fishes" at the charity event. "Care to join me?"

I asked, looking in to Taylor's eyes, which were bolted to me as I stepped toward the stairs, seemingly in fear of being left alone. "Of course."

She said, as an image of instant relief flooded over her face. It seemed that she really was comfortable with me after all, and I was glad to have made her feel so. Maybe my prayers from earlier this evening had indeed been answered.

So we crossed the proper toward the lovely blonde couple, and their erstwhile brunette companion, arm in arm, all smiles across our faces, and theirs. As we finally reached the pair, I offered forth a hand, held between the two as not to be disrespectful toward either. "Lucas and Peyton Scott, my name is Seth Michael Mares, and it is an utmost pleasure to meet the both of you."

* * *

**Well, hope you all liked the newest chapter of A Journey, and I hope it filled your Leyton fix at least a little, I know it wasn't completely Leyton centric, but I promise there will be more and more Leyton as the chapters go on, because the next chapter will be even longer then this one, bare with me, because I also have to get my original relationship some screen time too, and I want everyone to get to know Merrick/M.O. because he's going to be an important character in later chapters, especially once this fic becomes a cross over with two of my other ongoing stories.**

**Next Chapter: Seth and Taylor get to know each other a little better down on Tree Hill beach after the Concert, and Haley and Nate take their own walk down that same beach, thanks to a little prodding from Lucas. That guy's good at handing out advice considering how long it took him to take his own, don't you think? Well be here next chapter to find out exactly how things are going down in Tree Hill: A Journey, Chapter 2, On Broken Wings.**


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